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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22796683">Illegal Moves</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/pansexualbeast15/pseuds/medusasrevenge'>medusasrevenge (pansexualbeast15)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (Movies - Muschietti)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:28:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,343</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22796683</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/pansexualbeast15/pseuds/medusasrevenge</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Pizza plus beer plus our two favorite gay dumbasses equals a recipe for a Reddie's Valentine's Day.</p><p>Italics: Eddie<br/>Bold: Richie<br/>Parentheses: Richie's innermost monologue.</p><p>Argh, so apparently much of this is bold and that's not what's intended. I hope it doesn't detract from reading my story. If you know how to help, please send a passenger pigeon.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>IT ❀ Valentine's Day Fic Exchange</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Illegal Moves</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sirius_1910/gifts">Sirius_1910</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For the stellar Sirius_1910.</p><p>Baby's First HTML! Obviously needs more work but it's witching hour so goodnight, all.</p><p>Come say heyo on my tumblr: northwindscookie</p><p>Kudos and comments are better than gluten!</p><p>Thanks for reading:)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Illegal Moves</p><p>In this version of events, and let’s face it, there are more stories about our OTP R and E than Stephen King will ever publish, (including the truly frightening shit he said to publish only AFTER his death), it’s Richie that follows Eddie to New York after What Happens in Derry Stays in Derry. He’s tentatively thinking about that as the title for his as to be written special. Catchy, huh?<br/>
It’s not just that he wants to audition for SNL finally or that he craves good pizza instead of California Pizza Kitchen. It’s Eddie Kasbrak, the Love of his Fucking Life. Nope, he will not calm down. The capitalization is completely justified. Richie Tozier isn’t leaving behind all that good vibes and green drinks for every meal shit and California sun for just anyone. It’s Eddie- gorgeous, amazing, brave Eddie who had whispered that magic word beginning with d.<br/>
No, not dick. Well not just dick or Eddie’s favorite variations such as “Shut up, dick,” “you dickwad,” sometimes just “Dick!” After hearing the same profanities issuing from his tiny soulmate’s mouth from age 8 to 40, it all sounds like pet names to him now. The d word Eddie muttered on the phone to him was divorce. As in he was finally breaking free from his smother spouse and did Richie want to help?<br/>
Okay, fine. Eddie didn’t actually say that. But his huge Disney eyes imploring him on Facetime did. Multiple times. So Richie dumps his agent who seems slightly suspicious about his client’s sudden substance abuse issues as if Richie wasn’t cool enough to be hooked on drugs other than MMJ which helps his ADHD brain mellow out (fuck you, Steve!), takes his Hollywood money to Manhattan and buys an apartment in the same building where Eddie is now obsessively cleaning his new bachelor pad every other day and daydreaming of calling OSHA every 5 seconds with a building code violation. Because Richie Tozier doesn’t rhyme with Hozier is subtle in his seduction. Obvi.<br/>
It’s Valentine’s Day, the top helliday for singles. The thought of spending it with Eddie makes him want to engage in an attractive combo of vomiting and sweating.  Eddie told him about Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome but he immediately zoned out because it sounded like some new gym fad. So far, Richie has not thrown up (huzzah!) and he’s only sweated through one of his two shirts. (He’s always liked layers because also has layers. Shut up.) It’s not like the custom Beverly Marsh crying pineapple t shirt was a favorite of his or whatever. Anyway, time to text his super platonic BFF.<br/>
&lt; strong&gt;hey dude bro tho u are nothing like a dudebro u want to hit some clubz </p><p>There, perfect. He sounds like such a douche. Part of him is worried that Eddie would respond with What, like a gay club? No thanks. Is it weird that Richie finds it hot that Eddie uses proper grammar and punctuation like a boomer?<br/>
Eddie most certainly is NOT a douche. Richie had come out to all the Losers a month ago and it was fine. Totally. That’s the thing. Richie’s brain on the other hand?  They might have killed IT but his dear old Derry insecurities resurrected that fucking clown inside his head so he could doubt everything and everyone. Sometimes. On the good days, not like today, a highly pressure filled alcoholiday, he likes to think he’s getting better. Richie knows Eddie loves him and accepts him for who he is. He’s just scared shitless that he will push Eddie away faster than you can say staph infection if he knows Richie had a heart boner for him. Ugh, beep beep self.<br/>
After Richie presses send, he flings his phone across the room like the dramatic gay ass he is.  One minute later he hears a ping.</p><p>
  <em>So, I kind of hate this holiday but… do you want me to be your wingman or something? </em>
</p><p>(Shit shit. He’s just trying to be nice.)<br/>
<strong>nah bro the only wings I want 2nite r chicken wings u feel </strong><br/>
<strong>u want sum? lets eat junk food and 4get we r single </strong><br/>
(I want you to be my man, Eds, not my wingman)<br/>
<em> I could murder a pizza. </em></p><p>(Easier than murdering an alien killer clown.)<br/>
<strong> shit that paleo diets made u a violent little man Eds </strong></p><p>
  <em>Fuck you and don’t call me Eds. I’m not Paleo anymore. More like wholefoods 30 at the moment. </em>
</p><p>(Why do you always have to talk about that stupid store Whole Paycheck? Protest all you want, Eds. It’s not a waltz or a tango but it is a dance that’s been going on for 30 years.)<br/>
<strong> can I call u Tuesday </strong><br/>
(Am I flirting too much?)</p><p><em>Why, what’s happening on Tuesday?!</em><br/>
<em>What the flying fuck, Richie. Just come over. </em><br/>
(I can practically hear him hyperventilating.)<br/>
<strong>eddie my love thought u wld never ask</strong><br/>
(Fuck. I’m definitely flirting too much. Welp. Oh well.)<br/>
<em>Bring pizza, shit for brains.</em></p><p>(He’s so romantic.)<br/>
<strong>specialty shit or u gonna drown your sorrows in gluten</strong><br/>
(Goddamn I love one allergic little man.)</p><p>
  <em>Shut the fuck up. I’m allowed one cheat night a month. Bring food. Now.</em>
</p><p>(Fuck, he really must be carb starved. Shit, why did he have to say ‘cheat?’ I know he’s divorcing Myra, but still. Shut up, Richie. As if anything is going to happen.)<br/>
<strong>keep talkin dirty 2 me hangry babee</strong><br/>
(Wtf is wrong with me. Seriously.)<br/>
<em>Learn how to spell, asshole.</em></p><p>(Is he more annoyed I called him baby or that I misspelled it on purpose?)<br/>
<strong>i know how 2 spell asshole<strong><br/>
(Shit. Fuck. Must resist the urge to make gay joke.)<br/>
<strong>take a beauty nap Eds am going 2 Brooklyn 4 the good stuff</strong><br/>
(Anything for you, babe.)</strong></strong></p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <em>Beep beep, Trashmouth.</em><br/>
<em>Shit. Are you going to Di Fara’s?!</em>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>(I know him so well. Of fucking course I’m going to his favorite pizza place.)<br/>
<strong>it’s a surprise sweetheart</strong><br/>
(Shit. I didn’t mean to type that.)</strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <em>Thanks, Rich.</em>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>(Shit. I really hope he doesn’t fucking know. What kind of friend calls his other super straight friend sweetheart?!)</strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <em>That’s nice of you, man.</em>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>(Fuck. Play it cool.)<br/>
<strong>it ain’t no thang, mc eddie k</strong></strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <em>Don’t call me that, Richie. I’m not a DJ.</em>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong><strong>the headphones would prolly be 2 big 4 u</strong><br/>
(I love messing with you, whiny baby.)</strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <em>I’m going to strangle you with those headphones.</em>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>(Love how he serves it right back to me, twice as hard. Fuck I’m horny.)<br/>
<strong>Kinky<strong><br/>
(I bet he’s blushing so hard right now.)</strong></strong></strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>
          <em>You’re so fucking lucky you’re bringing me Di Fara’s, dude.</em>
        </strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>(Hmm interesting. You’re deflecting, Eddie dear.)<br/>
<strong>love u 2 sweet cheekz</strong><br/>
(Sweet cheeks? That was too much. Better stop before I fucking confess my love over text. Shit.)</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>
          <em>Rich, you’re keeping me from my beauty sleep.</em>
        </strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>(You are already beautiful. You don’t need to get more beautiful or I won’t be able to take it.)<br/>
<strong>eds my little prince am signing off now</strong></strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>
          <em>I’ll get you for that, numb nuts.</em>
        </strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>(I love flirting with you so much, fuckface.)<br/>
<strong>counting on it Edweird</strong><br/>
<strong>u shall see that I deffo don’t have numb nuts</strong></strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Three dots appeared, indicating that Eddie was typing. Then those dots were erased. What seemed like hours later, Eddie finally replied.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>
          <em>When TMZ calls, I shall say I have no comment.</em>
        </strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>(Such a funny little fucker.)<br/>
<strong>eds gets off a good one</strong></strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>
          <em>The student becomes the master.</em>
        </strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>(Are you flirting with me, Dude?)<br/>
<strong>so much u still need 2 learn grasshopper</strong></strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>
          <em>Teach me then.</em>
        </strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>(Fuck. Seems like you’re flirting with me. Cool cool. Or maybe you want to learn about comedy? Yeah that’s probably it. Calm the fuck down, gay lord. Eddie doesn’t have a hard on for you. Ahh! I don’t know what is even happening right now.)<br/>
<strong>we start 2nite</strong><br/>
(That’s vague enough right? Right? What the fuckitty fuck in fuck town.)</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>
          <em>Hurry up then, Richard.</em>
        </strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>(Oh shit. He used my full name. I’m freaking out right now.  Pizza! Yeah. Pizza now; freak out later. This really seems like flirting though. But how the fuck would I know? Even if he is into dudes, he’s so way out of my league. He would never go for a sloppy bitch like me.)</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Richie drops his phone as if he’s scared of it. His brain feels like it’s about to explode. He wants to text those disgusting lovebirds Bev or Ben for some disgusting lovebird advice, but he knows reception on the subway is beyond shitty and besides, his ADHD brain would totally make him miss his stop.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>He just wants to make Eddie happy. He always has. Even if it’s just bringing him his favorite pizza on Valentine’s Day. He must hurry if he’s going get to Williamsburg and back before midnight. If the G (aka the Ghost train) isn’t running, Richie’s going to grab one of those huge subway rats, (the ones that look like they’ve been pounding protein shakes and hitting the gym) smuggle it in his backpack, make it his attack rat, and train it to bite all the ankles of the stupid MTA board who are hellbent on ruining the entire shitty NYC subway system.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Two hours and three subway trains later, Richie finally shows up at Eddie’s door. Hefting the rapidly cooling 2 large pizzas in his arms, he awkwardly pushes Eddie’s doorbell with his right hip. “Eduardo! Open up!”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>The door opens cautiously, and Eddie sniffs the air as if to ensure that Richie did indeed bring pizza before he takes the chain off and lets Richie in. Richie finds his woodland creature act so fucking adorable.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Took you long enough.” </strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Richie tries not to stare creepily at his friend. Eddie is wearing a crisp white t shirt that looks like it has seen an iron and black sweatpants in some expensive material like jersey or some shit that cling to his muscular legs. His sable brown hair is mussed, and he has a sleep crease on his face. He tries to stifle a yawn with a grin which makes his dimples pop. Richie melts at the overall cuteness of one man.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“It’s Di Fara’s.” Richard turns his head as if he’s looking at an invisible camera and winks. “You’re worth it.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Eddie whips around, looking adorable confused. “Who are you talking to?”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Richie chuckles. “I’m just Fleabagging you, Eds."</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Eddie flushes bright red. “Fuck, I really don’t need to know what you’re into.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>(Ah, but you do, my love.)<br/>
“Uh, I think you’re thinking about tea bagging, Eddiekinks.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“I know what tea bagging is, asshole.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“I’m sorry, what!? We’re uh… we’re definitely coming back to that. So put a pin in that convo.” Richie shakes his head as if it was a snow globe and he needs to reset himself and see the pretty calming snow falling over the sleepy little town. Of Derry, Maine.<br/>
(Fuck, not helping.)<br/>
“Okay so Fleabag is this fucking brilliant dark as all hell show on Amazon. You have to see it. We’re watching it tonight.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Eddie sighs and makes grabby hands at the food. “Fine, pizza first.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“What no tip?” Richie says salaciously, holding the pizza just out of reach.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Eddie takes a deep breath and whispers, “That’s what he said.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Oh snap!” Richie’s ears go red. He giggles and lowers the pizza boxes a few inches but still above Eddie’s head.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Eddie comes so close that Richie can feel his minty breath on his face, then tries to grab the boxes, his t shirt lifting a bit to show a tantalizing amount of taut alabaster skin.  “It’s fucking Valentine’s day. You have to be nice to me. Like contractually. As my best friend.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Richie snorts and rolls his eyes. “You know me, I never read the fine print.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Don’t be such a dick, you fucking dick!”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>That’s literally my name, Edward.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>There is a vein in Eddie’s neck that looks like it’s going postal. “Fuck you, dude! Give it to me! I will kill you!”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“It’s zo cute vhen your food strahggles,” Richie says in his Dracula voice, doing nothing to make the food accessible to his pocket-sized friend.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Beep beep, Richie.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“You don’t like my Dracula voice, Eds?’ Richie pouts.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“It’s better than it was in 8th grade, dude. But it’s not pizza.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Fair.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Come on, man. The pizza’s probably cold and it won’t be safe if we don’t reheat it right now. It’s probably teeming with pathogens as we speak.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Fine, Eddie. You know my weakness is your big...vocabulary.” Eddie licks his lips as Richie hands the pizza to him with a bow. “My good Sir<br/>
Kasbrak,” he says, then follows him into the immaculate kitchen.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Eh. I prefer your Dracula.” Eddie puts both pies in his state-of-the-art oven and sets the button to reheat.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“I vill impale you vor that remark!”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Eddie laughs. “Why not impale the pizza instead?” and hands Richie some cutlery.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Richie takes a fork and gently prods Eddie’s stomach. Eddie shivers and slaps his hand away.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Stop it, jackass!”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Are you sure you’re not gay or maybe just European? Who the fuck else eats pizza with a knife and fork?”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Eddie sticks one perfectly manicured finger and sticks it in Richie’s face. “One: how very dare you.” And then a second. “Two: people who haven’t been raised in a barn.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Richie sets two places with the forks and knives, gets out plates and glasses and napkins working silently and neatly, like Eddie would do. “My sweet sweet rhinestone cowboy,” Richie inspects a glass and frowns at a water spot. He puts in the sink without breaking it, gets a new one from the cabinet and places it in front of Eddie’s plate, moving it around fussily, trying to get it center it, get everything just right; wishing he had bought hypoallergenic flowers or a cactus for his prickly little paramour. “Eds, if you want a roll in the hay, you just need to ask,” he says in a weird twang and mimes chewing on a piece of straw.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Fuck you, that’s not my name.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“I’m starting to think that’s going to be the name of your memoir in the risk analyst section of Barnes and Noble. <em>Eds: Fuck You, that’s not my Name!</em></strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“It would be a bestseller, asshole. Yours is going to be <em>Richie Tozier: I Finally Listened to the Voices in my Head.</em></strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Richie grins so hard it almost jumps off his face. He loves this little bastard so much. He goes down on one knee. “Omfg. Edward Kasbrak, will you marry me? You’re a fucking genius!”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Eddie yanks Richie up, embarrassed and red racing down to the collar of his t shirt. “Don’t do that to your knees. Can the acronyms. You’re a middle-aged man. And your proposal needs some work.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“I love it when you talk dirty to me, baby,” Richie looks Eddie up and down and smirks. “Seriously, man. I mean, do you want to write my material because…wow.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Eddie stares at him for a charged moment, his eyes wide and dark. “Um, I’ll be right back.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Super anticlimactic and also really vague, Eds. If you were in a horror movie and you said that, you’d be the next to die.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Here, read this while I’m gone.” Eddie chucks a copy of the book Wheat Belly at Richie who catches it in one hand, displaying surprising dexterity for someone with such a low attention span.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Richie waggles his fingers. “I’m good with my hands.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Eddie rolls his eyes. “That’s your wrestling name.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Eds gets off a good one.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“I changed my mine. You’re Dad Bod.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Dude, have you been stalking my twitter? Fans love my dad bod. 40 is the new 20.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Eddie does his patented glare snicker. “In what universe? No, asswipe. I just felt like roasting you.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“This shit got dark fast, Dahmer.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“And how is that any different from the rest of our lives?”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“True dat, bud,” Richie replies somberly.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“So, what’s my wrestling name?”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Knife to Meet You.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“I really do need to write your material, huh.” </strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“When you come back, you better beer me.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Beer yourself, man. I’ve got gluten free and non- gluten free beers in the fridge.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“I need a manly man to pop my cap,” Richie looks up at Eddie from underneath his eyelashes, bites his lip and sighs, one hand on his brow, doing his best damsel in distress.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Remember last time, when the bottle cap shot straight in your eye? You’re so accident prone, Rich. You’ve got to be more careful." Eddie shakes his head mournfully. "What would you do without me?” </strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“What indeed, my dear risk analyst.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Eddie smiles at Richie and leaves, cognizant someone is pretending not to stare at his juicy posterior.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong></strong>
    <strong></strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>As soon as he is out of sight, Richie fake swoons before picking up the book. He stares at the cover then frowns down at his belly and pinches it.<br/>
(Nah, no way he’s into Dad Bod.)<br/>
He sighs and turns to page one.</strong>
      </strong>
    
  
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Between the two of them, they polished off both pies and drank four beers apiece.  Nicely buzzed and stuffed as the ridiculously expensive dark brown leather couch they are sitting on. Richie thinks if he sinks lower and leans back, maybe his stomach will look flatter. Eddie’s stomach looks like you could bounce a fucking quarter off it. </strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>(Am I bloating? Already? Fucking Wheat Belly!) </strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Edward.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Richard.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Would you like your present now?”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“You’re going to kill me. I knew this day would come.” Eddie squeezes his eyes shut. “If you’re going to do it, do it fast."</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Shut up, I’m trying to be serious.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“You didn’t have to get me anything, man,” Eddie grins at Richie. “You got me pizza.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Well, I did get you something so accept it.” Richie peels off his t shirt to reveal a second one underneath.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Eddie turns fucking burgundy. “Um, what are you-‘’</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Pipe down, my little pipsqueak. It’ll make sense in a minute.” </strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Eddie looks at Richie’s shirt. It’s a well-worn neon green t shirt that says V is for Vodka inside a huge, crudely drawn heart. “Hmm. Would have thought it would say V is for Vagina but guess you needed to update your act.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Eddie, out of love for dear, departed Sonia Kasbrak, let’s not make fun of the dead.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“No I fucked your dad jokes then.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Eddie dear, I’m shocked. Frankly shocked that you would imply such a thing."</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Ha-ha okay you remember my dad, Frank Kasbrak?”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Yeah, dude. He was cool. He like actually made little league fun. He didn’t act like it was a chore to play with us. Not like my dad who always wanted to talk to me about flossing.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Richie, you need to take care of your pearly whites. And while we’re on the subject of dental hygiene, I want you to take over the practice one day.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Richie laughs. “That’s a pretty good impression of ole Went. I wish my dad was more like your dad but not your dad, you know?”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Yeah, I definitely do not want to be your brother. Um, yeah, my dad was the best. Miss him.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Yeah, me too.” Richie and Eddie stare at each other for what seems like a Pomeranian’s age before Richie broke eye contact.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“So was it worth cheating on your diet?”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“It’s Di Fara’s.” “Where’s my present?”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Hang on, greedy.” Richie dips in his bag and pulls out a bag with a neatly folded shirt inside.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“You know how to fold?”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“I learned it from working at the GAP.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Shut up, you did not. That’s so 90’s of you.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Of course I did. A lot of comedians did. Why do you think those GAP skits end up on SNL? It’s not GAP paying for the exposure, that’s for sure.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Eddie looks at the shirt and laughs.  “I Heart Complex Carbs.” He holds it up against his body. “Oh Richie, you really do love me.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Richie gulps. “If you love me, you’ll wear it. Right now.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Eddie looks away from Richie and bites his lip. “Only to shut you up, you absolute menace.” He quickly yanks his white t shirt off and puts the new one on.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Looks good, man. But it’s missing a little something.” Richie inhales shakily and grabs a sharpie from his bag. “Can I?” he gestures to Eddie’s shirt.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“I don’t need your autograph, dude. If I wanted that, I’d just ask your manager who signs all your merch.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Ha fucking ha,” he snorts at the little brat’s antics.  “It won’t hurt. I promise I’ll be gentle,” Richie says in a strangely gentle tone.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Sweat beads on Eddie’s forehead. After a moment, he bites his lip and nods.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Richie scoots closer to him. “Hold still.” The strong chemical scent of the marker suffuses the air. Heat seems to crackle between Richie’s right hand and forearm and Eddie’s soft shirt. He presses gently with trembling fingers. Richie draws on Eddie’s shirt for a few minutes then caps his pen, admiring his handiwork.  “Perfect.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“What does it say? I can’t read upside down.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Go look in the mirror."</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“I trust you.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Wow. Thanks. I trust you too, Eddie. With my life.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Ditto.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“It says “A Simple Man Loves Complex Carbs.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Rich gets off a good one.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Aw! You’re mirroring me. That’s so cute, Eds. Cute cute cute!” Richie pinches Eddie’s stomach and his friend swats his hand away with a sound of disgust. “How are you not bloated, dude? I ate like less pizza than you and got like instant wheat belly.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Eddie smirks like the little bastard he is. “It’s a little secret I like to call discipline.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Hmm never heard of it. Seriously, Eds.” Richie takes a deep breath, stares into Eddie’s eyes, and lifts up the hem of Eddie’s t shirt to expose a sliver of unfairly toned skin. “Your abs are so unreal they must be painted on. You’re like a stunt double for yourself. Sting called. He wants to know who your trainer is."</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Eddie jumps when Richie starts tracing the hem with a cold finger. “Your hands are fucking freezing, Rich. You’ve always had shit circulation and that gets worse if you don’t work to get the blood flowing. It could turn into arthritis. Here. Let me chafe them.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Saucy minx. Bet you say that to all the guys.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Nope. Just you.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Chafe away, my good man.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Eddie takes Richie’s hands in his own and rubs them gently and vigorously. If he notices any nerves, he’s smart enough not to mention it.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“How are your hands so fucking warm? Are you powered by rage? Let’s get rid of carbon emissions and replace it with Eddie energy. Together we can combat climate change!”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“You’re a huge fucking dork,” Eddie grins but doesn’t let go of Richie’s hands.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Hey Eds? Would you like to wrestle like 40-year-old crocodiles?” Richie blurts.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Uh, what? Do you even know what a segue is, dude?"</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“They have Segways all over Los Angeles," Richie manages with a straight face.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Eddie rolls his eyes. “Hilarious, dipshit. If we’re going to wrestle, I must analyze the risks, calculate our ages, relative fitness, lack of experience with proper wrestling technique-no, rough housing at the quarry doesn’t count-, figure out which moves are safe and which are illegal.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Richie mimes fanning himself. “Your risk analyst lingo gets me so hot.” He snares eye contact with Eddie and holds it.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Um. Really?” Eddie squeaks out and Richie melts. Eddie is so obviously nervous. Maybe he wants this too. Just maybe.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Really.” And just like that, Richie is done with the teasing. He’s tired of not feeling brave. “So should we-?”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Want me to show you some moves?”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Legal or-?”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Illegal.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Yeah. Show me those moves. Eddie…”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Eddie sidles up to Richie shyly and pecks him on the lips.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Never seen that on the WWF.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Eddie kisses him again, pressing his lips against Richie’s and tracing them with his tongue. Richie opens his mouth and their tongues wrestle, tasting of hops and marinara. Richie sucks on Eddie’s tongue hard like it was a mint and tangles his fingers in Eddie’s hair. Eddie gasps and returns the favor, pulling on Richie’s hair until he moans. Eddie presses closer and closer to him, his sharp hip bones wanting to share a secret with Richie’s. Richie’s secret is that he is hard. Eddie shudders and introduces his own erection politely to Richie’s.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Fuck!” Richie says, all eloquence.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Strong enough to carry me to the bed?”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Fucking love you, you little shit. Come here.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Eddie practically jumps into Richie’s arms and slings his arms around his neck.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“I’m above average height, asshole,” he mumbles into Richie’s clavicles.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“That’s your new wrestling name. Forget the other one."</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Hmm. Whatever you say, Rich,” Eddie nuzzles into Richie.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Richie chuckles. “Want me to help you forget your actual name?"</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Damn. Yeah. I do. How the hell does such a cheesy line work on me?” Eddie licks Richie’s neck.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“It’s a little secret I like to call discipline.” Richie smirks and kisses the top of Eddie’s head.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Now who’s mirroring whom?” Eddie yanks on a lock of Richie’s hair in retaliation.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Richie just smiles at him like the love struck Alexander Dumbass he is. “I’ll be your mirror, if that’s what you are,” he sings.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“I really hope you’re better at sex than you are at butchering <em> The Velvet Underground…”</em></strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Eds will be getting off a good one. In approximately five minutes.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“Shut up and fuck me, asshole.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>"Such poetry.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>“I’ll let you call me Emily Fucking Dickinson if you just suck my dick already!" Eddie yells with 30 years of sexual frustration.</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>Richie gives him a Cheshire cat grin.“You do look good in white, beautiful.”</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>He kicks open Eddie’s bedroom door and heaves his precious cargo over the threshold. Somewhere, <em>The Velvet Underground is singing just for them.</em></strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>UPDATE: Part 2 is coming just like reddie will be. Heyo!</strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Di Fara's is the best pizza in the world. It is transcendent. Eating a plain pie is like having a religious experience.</p><p>Fans of other pizzerias dni.</p><p>UPDATE: My husband (who chooses to remain ignorant to my fanfic pursuits, how very dare he) asked if I wanted DiFara's tomorrow. Life imitating art?! </p><p>Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome is a real thing I learned about while going down the google medical research rabbit hole. </p><p>Because I might relate to Eddie in some kind of way.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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